It's Just A Messed World, Innit?
by Mabel is a Deprived Romantic
Summary: Sometimes, bottling up your emotions in the hope that you won't come across as an attention-seeker or a 'severe-angsting-adolescense' isn't for the best. Sometimes, you just have to accept who you are. Ah, but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Please Read and Review. ONESHOT! :D


**It Came In and Corrupted Us All:**

A.N: It's _clean, _okay? C-L-E-A-N. No language, (yes I did it. I know I can't help swearing in my fics :3 With Cartman I did it as well. *showers self with roses* Actually...Do you remember the censoring chip or whatever the hell it was called in the film? Yeah...I might've cheated there...)AND NO SLASH. *le gasp* I know, shock horror, they make up my sub-plots because I'm so original. (cue shoulders sagging pathetically)

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>And, yes, this <em>is <em>a one-shot, because I really don't have neither the effort or time to do a multi-chaptered one. Ah, I've just realised that there are some dark themes and some tidbit teasing slash if you look. Does this mean I'm a naturally romantic person? No? I'll shut up now...

Summary: Sometimes, bottling up your emotions in the hope that you won't come across as an attention-seeker or a 'severe-angsting-adolescense' isn't for the best. Sometimes, you just have to accept who you are. Ah, but that would be too easy

_**DISCLAIMER: THERE IS ABSOLOUTELY NO WAY I OWN SOUTH PARK. SERIOUSLAH, **_

_**YOU GAIHS, WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT? I'M BEING SUPER CEREAL RIGHT NOW.**_

A young woman of no more than 25 was typing on a computer with an irritated expression on her face. Her jet black hair kept on falling in her face, so every few minutes she would flick her head back, smoothen her purple cardigan, and continue typing.

"Wendy."

She did not look up to give her reply: a tense "What."

"_Wendy._"

"_What?_"

A man of 26 was standing at the foot of her desk, smiling triumphantly. His hazel eyes darkened as he began to sing his favourite taunt.

"_Heh-heh-heh-heh ha ha. I made you a-ask!_"

"For God's sake Cartman, _shut up._ I swear that wasn't even _valid._" Wendy's bright blue eyes narrowed as she studied Cartman, trying to calculate the amount of disruption he would cause if she let him in. "You're not here to send moreof those..._things _to Kyle, are you?"

"Who, Kahl? Why, no, Miss Testaburger, I shan't be donating any more of that 'stock' to poor dear _Kyel._"

"Right, and my elementary boyfriend isn't in this mental institution," Cartman's expression became murderous at the mention of her 'elementary boyfriend' Stanley Marsh. "And, no. You are not allowed to barge in and bother Kenny and Butters to the ends of the earth. _Or _Stan."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you bifff-" He screwed up his face as the chip registered his slip up in choice of language. _Oh _Mel Gibson _this hurts._

He cleared his throat. "What I was saying, _darn _this scratchy throat, is that, yes: I hear you. What would I want with those nut-cases?"

Wendy arched her eyebrows skeptically. "Well, _gee, _I don't know, but I do happen to remember a certain Eric Theodore Cartman having an, ah, _unhealthy _obsession with both Kyle and Butters."

"Stop right there, ho-honey. Honey. First of all, Butters is easily manipulated, and Kyle looks _hella _hilarious when annoyed. And, might I add, he is _super _easy to annoy."

"Uh huh. And he's always annoyed at someone now. Why weren't you laughing last week?" Cartman looked of to the side and frowned. "That was different, _hippy-_hip hoppity dot. _God._"

"Riiight."

"Yeah. Exactly, Wendy."

She sighed and gave him an incredulous look before drawling in a monotone. "A new protocol has been added by the Board of Colarado's Medication and Mentality Unit on the acceptance of letting personnel into to visit the clients. Said personnel must be searched for illegal and harmful substances or materials, due to the 87th breakdown of Mr. Broflovski which was caused by deviant: Eric Theodore Cartman, by bringing in materials that were traced back to his mother's, Liane Cartman, closet."

"AY! You effing biiii-_mother ffff- _HAMBURGERS!" Cartman let out a disgruntled sigh and murmured "Aw, God-_damn _it, Wendy. I hate you so, so much right now." Wendy gave him a smug, satisfied smile. "Now, would you please step over _nyah _for examination," she mocked, whilst gesturing towards the white doorway behind her desk. Cartman scowled; his eyebrows furrowed together. Already standing in the doorway, Wendy blew some hair off of her face frustratedly.

"Sometime today _would _be nice, but if you can't fit that into your busy schedule then that's _fahn, _just _fahn._"

"AY! Stop making fun of how I speak, woman! Why don't you shut up, wander over hyah and-"

"That's lovely, Cartman. _Move._" Cartman shuffled his feet forwards and through the doorway, blinked twice, before realising that this place wasn't actually a room, but a huge examining x-ray. He glared at Wendy accusingly. "AY! I'm not a terrorist, what, do I look like Token? _Or _Nichole."

Wendy gasped in mock horror. "Why, Cartman, what do you think you're doing, associating yourself to people much more _beautiful _and _sophisticated_," she glanced around as if looking for someone. "Why, I should get you persecuted, the gap is even bigger than you!"

"Just do the searching already! Geez!" Wendy flicked a switch on at the wall and the room was bathed in a baby blue light. She pressed a combination of buttons and rays of rusty orange light came sweeping from the ceiling towards Cartman. Suddenly, {a foetus} a loud buzzing noise blared out, accompanied with a crackling voice from a now visible intercom.

"_Warning. A material unclassified with the ID _entity_נרפא _has been found. An authorised member of proffesionality is advised to remove the offending substance to allow access to the following: Exhibit A, Exhibit C-Exhibit C, Exhibit D, Exhibit E, Exhibit-crzzzt_" Wendy walked over to Cartman with an expression of confusion on her face. "The hell? That was in Hebrew. Why would you..?" she trailed off as she began to inspect Cartman. Wendy found the object immediately, a tiny injecting needle with a yellow liquid in it. Wendy looked up to Cartman, her expression grave.

"Have I, yes or no, explained to you that giving any form of medication to any patient is both _dangerous, illegal and life-threatening!?_" she hissed. Cartman just gave her a look.

"What made you think it was for those gaihs? It's for me." Wendy's eyes widened.

"You may proceed." she said, but not before she threw the needle back to Cartman.

O.O

"Stan, it's okay. We're still here. The world isn't dead, you aren't dead, and nobody's dead. It's okay."

A red-headed boy gently stroked the jet-black hair that belonged to Stanley Marsh. Stan was gripping his ears as if in agony (because, let's face it: the cynicism mixed in with the gothic lifestyle _hurtshurtshurtsohgodgodnonononono_) and had his eyes screwed shut. They were in an inter-linked cell, joined by an open iron door, surrounded by bars, the words _Exhibit A _and _Exhibit C _carved into the concrete above their heads and outside. Another inter-linking cell sat across from them, labelled _Exhibit D _and _Exhibit E. _The door that linked these two cells, however, was shut. A dirty blonde wearing an orange parka sat in _Exhibit D _and watched Stan's 3rd meltdown of the day with dull blue eyes. Slowly, he turned his head towards _Exhibit E _and murmured softly: "Butters..." The red-head looked up from Stan. "Butters having his medication, Kenny," he told the boy gently. "He'll be back in a second." he blinked a few times and looked up to the ceiling. "Ugh, shut up, Tiffy, that _doesn't _mean he's psychotic!" he laughed. "Yes, I know you're right. He's not psychotic, no." Kenny looked to him with a pitiful expression. "Are you feeling alright, Kyle?"

"Why yes, we're doing quite fine. The weather and I, that is." Kyle smiled at him as if his answer made complete sense. He returned his attention towards Stan. "How're the weather and you doing, Stan?"

"Guys! Everyone be quiet! Stripes will turn his wrath on you, if you all don't shut up!" a blue-hatted boy in _Exhibit F _glared at them whilst displaying an obscene gesture with his right hand.

"_Ngh! _That's code for-AH! C-Cartman, isn't it? Oh GOD, Craig! He's gonna kill all of us _and _Stripes! _AH!_" A twitchy voice from _Exhibit G _exclaimed. Silently, Craig walked swiftly over to his adjoining iron door, and walked in to _Exhibit G._

"_It's gonna be okay, Tweekers._" Kyle chuckled. "Whoa, déja vu right there guys. No, Tiffy, do I sound like I'm addressing you? You're making me look like a lunatic!"

_KA-THUNK._

"Is that Wendy? Oh, please say that she's come to update me on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Flickr, Reddit and Dirty Gossip..." a meek female voice inquired. Stan opened his eyes and they swivelled towards _Exhibit H._ "It's Cartman, Bebe...Craig said that... _What's the damn point, no-one's listening, you conformists!"_

Cartman walked up to _Exhibit A _and _Exhibit C _calmly as if nothing had happened. " 'Sup, nut-jobs?"

"You're one of us too, Cartman. You were the first to go." Cartman sneered over at Kyle as he said this.

"Nooo, I'm not like you, Kahl. I'm not a corrupted schizophrenic, immortal rat, cynical goth, ADD meth addict, angsty hamster leader or a psycho."

"Yeah, well, you might need to do your research on the last one."

"AY! I don't need you to tell me my place, you poor piece of cra- crazy...Yeah...Poor piece of crazy, 'ey Kinneh?"

_KA-THUNK._

Everyone looked back to the door. Cartman sighed and yelled "Wendy, I told you I don't need assistance over hyah!"

"W-why Eric, I'm as sure as heck I'm not Wendy." Cartman's features relaxed slightly, but contorted again when he saw Clyde escorting him.

"Clyde, Butters isn't some dangerous animal mutant. He's a big boy now, with multiple personality disorder, so I'm sure he's not gonna let all hell loose if you unchain him." Butters glanced worriedly at the handcuffs attaching him to Clyde. He bit his lip and then smiled innocently. "Aw shucks, Eric, it's only for my safety. My parents always said-" His eyes began to well and he stared despondently at the floor. Kenny began rattling the bars of _Exhibit D _and began howling like a caged animal. "Clyde, you _idiot! _And you! Cartman! What were you thinking, you're so tactless!"

"Kenny, we're gonna need you to calm down, or we get the sedative." Clyde began in a nasal voice. "Protocol 51 requires 'all clients to remain calm for 19 minutes after any other person's medication treatment to limit emotional breakdown, due to the emotional fragility experienced after all medication doses-'"

"O-oh, Kenny doesn't mean it, do ya, Ken?" Butters said quitely. Kenny ceased his rattling to smile at Butters warmly. Clyde gave them both a look, unlocked their shared handcuffs and pushed Butters in the direction of _Exhibit E._ "C-can't I go in _Exhibit D, _Clyde?" A trace of a smile flicked over Kenny's face, but it remained neutral.

"Fine. Cartman, stop being a waste of space and help me unlock the doors."

"Okay, _fahn._"

Cartman threw back the doors to _Exhibit D _with too much ease, Kenny looking at him strangely. Clyde prompltly threw Butters into Kenny's embrace: now sobbing.

"I-it was _horrible _Ken." He stuttered as Kenny petted his head. Stan looked intently at them, before looking up at Kyle and waggling his arms. Kyle sighed, rolled his eyes, but got up from his perch and sat down in his lap as Stan growled a faint "_Mine, all mine._"

Clyde looked torn at both _Exhibit D _and _Exhibit A. _He turned his head slowly towards _Exhibit I _and then making his way swiftly over there.

Cartman sighed. It was _all the same._

Every single_ damn – _OW! - time.

He wondered if it still would have been the same if he'd left the drugs alone.

But no.

It _was _obvious that he had been the first to go anyway, hell, a clinically depressed phecophiliac on prozac had figured it out.

He sighed again and went through the back door and into an area labelled _Clinical Toilets: EMPLOYEE'S ONLY._

Once more he sighed as he injected himself with the yellow liquid.

He gasped as it took its toll.

He was a liar, it was in his nature after all.

Maybe he would allow himself to be manipulated by his own mind _just one more time._

But this was South Park, and most things extraordinary things just stay the same.

Even conniving fat-asses.

_**LE FINI, MES AMIS.**_


End file.
